


A is for Awakening

by thisismylovelyalias



Series: Consultant Connor [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor Deserves Happiness, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), and the sheer greatness of the dbh new era server, but that is okay probably, this and any dbh fics after this are inspired by the creative genius of rhinozilla-, this is really self-indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 14:44:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20472761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisismylovelyalias/pseuds/thisismylovelyalias
Summary: While he appreciated his new-found deviancy, Connor couldn't help but despise the new emotions he felt.





	A is for Awakening

Hart Plaza | November 12, 2038 | 12:04 AM

Spirits soared as androids all over rejoiced at their new-found freedom, having long since broken away from the solid, orderly lines they stood in during their saviours, the RK200 prototype dubbed “Markus” and his fellow figureheads, speech. Instead, they cried, laughed, danced,  _ screamed _ , their euphoria all too clear as soft, powdery snow fell from above, slowly blanketing them in its cold, gentle embrace.

Yet, enraptured by their happiness, they failed to notice as the former-deviant hunter all but ran from his position at the back of the makeshift stage to the borders of the crowd, where the remaining Detroit City Police Department officers were conducting crowd control.

Connor knew that he couldn’t walk away, couldn’t leave, couldn’t  _ run _ , until the officers had been given the all-clear to allow the androids to roam the city freely, not that any model minded, too in-the-moment to care, but he had to go somewhere.

After all, he couldn’t bear to be here any longer. Not until he knew for sure that Amanda wouldn’t return from whatever recesses of his mind she had been banished to. For all he knew, Kamski’s emergency exit was a temporary solution, and he couldn’t,  _ wouldn’t _ , let himself be the tool used to attempt to kill Markus once more.

“Connor?” A familiar voice spoke up, the word all but lost in the chaos.

As much as he wanted to flee, Connor’s social integration program took over, forcing him to turn towards the speaker, a DPD officer he couldn’t see clearly, frantically waving his arm as he maneuvered towards the android.

Upon further inspection, Connor gave the man a small, albeit forced, smile, having properly identified the man as Officer Matthew Wilson, the very man he had saved all those days ago during his first mission. 

His speeding thoughts immediately jumped to Daniel and the site of thirium bursting out through the breaches in his synthetic skeleton, voice staticky as the PL600 spoke,“ _ You lied to me… _ ”, practically forced out before being cut off with a high-pitched whine and the disappearance of the metaphorical life from his eyes before ultimately shutting down, gaze somehow both piercing and blank at the same time. The very notion sent miniscule shudders through his biocomponents.

Shaking his head, Connor walked forwards towards the officer, offering a polite wave of his own before speaking. “Hello, Officer Wilson.”

“It’s nice to see you again.” Wilson said, shaking Connor’s hand as he smiled back at the android. “That was quite the display you put on out there yesterday, you leading an army of all things.”

LED momentarily flickering yellow before returning to a soft, cycling blue, Connor shrugged. “I would hardly call it leading an army. I was simply helping Markus to free other androids and turn the tide of the revolution.”

“Well, you turned the tide all right. Pretty sure that horde of deviant androids marching through Detroit was the whole reason President Warren pulled out her troops in the first place. There was no way you all would lose.”

“That much is true. Androids  _ are _ faster, and we don’t feel pain. They wouldn’t have stood a chance.” Connor agreed. It was a simple fact, after all.

“Right.”

Connor couldn’t help but notice how anxious Officer Wilson seemed — stress levels rising up to 37%, fingers fiddling with the cuffs of his uniform, shifting his weight from one foot to the other —as the silence stretched on.

For some odd reason, he found himself exhibiting similar mannerisms, practically begging for some unknown force, possibly even rA9, to have something,  _ anything _ , happen to somewhat lessen the nervous tension he was feeling.

“What’s it like?” Wilson abruptly asked, his words too fast and his tone too meek. It seemed as if he too were desperate, not for some awkward small-talk or silences, but rather to fill the gap between the two. “The whole, uh, feelings and emotions thing just suddenly appearing where they weren’t before.”

There were a variety of topics, Connor thought, that the officer could have brought up. The revolution and its aftermath, the department, Markus and Jericho. Yet, his new-found deviancy was not one he saw coming.

Hands gesturing towards nothing in particular, Connor frowned. “If I am to be honest, deviancy is quite… confusing to me.”

“How so?”

Although shocking, Connor considered this newfound interest of Wilson’s to be somewhat pleasant, wanting to understand the very concept they had all been hunting for not even a week ago.

“These emotions I’m experiencing, I can’t make any sense of them, nor can I differentiate between any of them. It’s puzzling.”

At that, Wilson paused, his incessant fiddling intensifying as he shifted his gaze down to the snow-trodden ground. “Well, uh, maybe I could help? Like, help you figure out what you’re feeling with my, I don’t know, feeling experience? If you’d be okay with that anyways, I wouldn’t want to force you or anything.” He offered, practically stumbling over his words as he kept his eyes firmly locked on the floor, stress levels creeping up to an even 38%.

“No,” Connor replied, flapping his hands and gesticulating at random all the while. “I—I’d like that actually. Thank you.”

“Oh, great! Then, what, or I guess how, are you feeling right now?” Wilson asked, quickly lifting his inquisitive brown eyes to lock onto Connor’s, as if eye contact would somehow aid in the identification of the android’s emotions.

“I’m not entirely sure,” He began, his programming assisting him in his explanation. “It’s as if there is a suffocating sensation around my biocomponents, even after my self-diagnostic examination has stated there to be nothing out of the ordinary, and the unabating constriction of my thirium pump when I look at the other androids here. I don’t like it.”

With a nod, Wilson gave him a bright, albeit hesitant, smile, gesturing for him to go on. “What else?”

LED flashing yellow as Connor gave it more thought, he shuddered. “It feels similar to a weight of some sort? Pressing down on my, my synthetic ribs? I think it might be comparable to the feeling of fear, the way I had momentarily felt while interfacing with the HK400 model responsible for the death of Carlos Ortiz.” Simply speaking of it sent an ice-cold prickle down his biocomponents. “But, for some reason, I believe this may be different.”

“How so?”

“It seems to be more of a fear, or maybe concern, for others rather than myself. Like I should not be here for the sake of everyone else’s safety.”

Wilson, oddly enough, slowly lifted a hand and landed it atop Connor’s shoulder, awkwardly giving him a pat. “I’m sorry.”

“Do you know what it is?” Connor asked, side-eyeing the hand, but making no attempts to move away.

“Uh, well, good news or bad news first?” he replied. Taking a single glance at the sad, confused look on the android’s face, Wilson sighed and continued. “So, yes, I know what it is,  _ but _ I’m pretty sure it’s guilt or shame and that? That sucks.”

Connor’s search for this new-found term was clear as his LED spun yellow, expressions rapidly changing from confused to shocked, understanding, to sad and possibly even relieved as he could finally put a name to the emotions he was feeling. 

He was bought out of his respite by the sharp, crackling static from Wilson’s communication device, confirmation that androids were clear to begin exiting the plaza.

Clearly unsure how to carry the conversation, the officer simply stepped aside, standing stock-still as the miniscule amount of comfort he felt had left him. “You’re, uh, free to go now, Connor. I hope you feel better soon.” He said, cringing at the awkward, ungraceful tone his voice suddenly took on.

Connor took a step before stopping, making eye-contact with Wilson as he attempted to properly smile, which amounted to nothing more than a slight show of teeth, but the sincerity behind it was contagious and Wilson found himself smiling back.

“Thank you, Officer Wilson.” He uttered before walking away, smile never leaving his face.

“Good luck, Connor.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading this!


End file.
